


Homecoming

by CCNSurvivor



Category: Ratched (TV)
Genre: F/F, Kinktober 2020, Oral Sex, Tender Sex, caught masturbating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:36:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27061300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CCNSurvivor/pseuds/CCNSurvivor
Summary: Gwendolyn returns home and walks in on Mildred reclaiming her body.Kinktober prompt: Caught masturbating.
Relationships: Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched
Comments: 10
Kudos: 171





	Homecoming

The simple house in a quiet suburb lay peaceful and dark when Gwendolyn slipped out of the taxi cab. She touched her hand to the brim of her hat to bid the driver a final farewell, and then advanced down the driveway and towards the front door. The night sky was hidden behind a blanket of clouds, and the air around her was damp; differing only from the balmy Mexican nights because of its biting chill. How she missed them! Those hours spent flush together, skin against skin and tethered in each other’s embrace while stars blinked and twinkled brightly from the canvas above. Or those moments in which the sun caught in her lover’s chestnut hair, infusing it with strands of glowing ruby. But more than that she realised, not for the first time, she missed _her_. Mildred. The luxury of time spent together even when it had sometimes felt like a fever dream. Too good to be true and just as likely to be shattered at any moment by chaos or dread.

Her hand carefully closed around the door knob while the other slipped the key into the lock. Perhaps then there was something to be said for an American normalcy, whatever the heck that meant. Gwendolyn paused and looked up at the darkened window before turning the key and stepping inside. She had come to know Mildred as a light sleeper and wanted to make certain not to wake her. Quietly, she pivoted on the spot and placed her hat on a hook by the door, listening out for any sounds from the floor above. But there was only silence and the persistent ticking of a clock in the distance.   
  
She had merely been away a couple of days, yet already the familiarity of the house, their house, threatened to overwhelm her. Every inhalation brought to her nostrils the warm notes of Mildred’s perfume, and as she walked towards the staircase and toed off her shoes, she spared a tender look at the pumps that now aligned with her wingtips. How often she had dreamed of ordinary domesticity like this.   
  
It was a whimper that made her stop in her tracks, the tiniest whisper of something she felt she should recognise. It made her think of those terrible nightmares Mildred would suffer, haunted by Edmund, their past and the future they had become entangled in. Holding on to the banister, she hesitated, at once wanting to advance quicker but fearing to startle her awake if she made too much noise. To make her think there was an intruder in the house, however fleeting, was too careless a notion to consider. On she went in her stockinged feet, proceeding silently and swiftly until she reached their bedroom door.   
  
The faint sounds had morphed into sighs, interspersed here and there by irregular breathing. Concerned, Gwendolyn steadied herself against the doorframe and peered through the opening. The space beyond was scarcely illuminated by the flickering light of a candle, but even as annoyance flared up at Mildred’s laxity, her thoughts were beginning to process the image in front of her. For the familiar body in the bed was writhing, yes, but not in hassled tossing and turning of night terrors. Instead it rocked, back and forth, up and down, impatiently, greedily; encouraged by the hand nestled between its thighs. And Gwendolyn froze and stared, her face overcome with heat. She would hardly call herself faint of heart or easy to frazzle, but everything she could make out before her was filled with such intimacy that her very breath stalled. With every dip of the hand Mildred seemed to grow in confidence. Fingers coaxing and curling until she tilted her head to the side and smeared a breathy moan into the pillow. Her spine arched. And how her hair fell into her face, hiding her eyes behind another veil of darkness! How her other hand clutched on to her thigh, to the bed, to anything that might steady her! A fragile moment of desire, of claiming herself back again. It flooded her heart with warmth and an aching, cracking longing. She, who was condemned to observe from a distance.   
  
“Gwen.” Her name emerged in a thick sigh, drawing her in, and as she sought to bridge the gap between them, she realised that Mildred had called out only to the thought of her, and remained unaware of her presence.   
  
“Darling, please don’t startle,” she quickly said, extending a hand in an apology. “It’s only me. I’m home.”   
  
But Mildred’s legs were already closing, as she clumsily tried to straighten on the mattress, her nightgown draping itself protectively over previously exposed flesh. Her cheeks flushed and her breathing still laboured.   
  
“You told me you wouldn’t return until Tuesday.” Her voice refused to stay even.   
  
“And so I thought, but I made it home sooner. A nice surprise, I had hoped.”   
  
Gwendolyn sank down at the foot end of the bed, her eyes fixed purely on the other’s face.   
  
“You weren’t meant to see.” She looked helplessly around the darkened room with eyes that could no longer challenge or reprimand.   
  
“I am so sorry, Mildred. You know I would have made myself known had I been aware.”   
  
Gwen carefully extended a hand towards her leg, stroking along her calf with loving fingers. Her partner did not recoil, but she kept her arms wrapped around herself while her hands refused to settle.   
  
“You looked, you _look_ so beautiful. I thought you were calling out to me,” she continued carefully, wishing now that tender words would calm her where her touch could not.   
  
“Oh, please, spare me those eyes, Gwendolyn.”   
  
She chuckled and lifted her chin in playful defiance. “What might you be referring to?”   
  
“You know very well,” Mildred insisted, shifting her leg away and temporarily out of reach. “That sparkling, sentimental look that you have given me from the start.”   
  
“Affection, darling? Or devotion?” Gwen gently cupped her foot and brought her leg closer once more, daring to place a chaste, sweet kiss just above her ankle.   
  
And it sparked, oh, how it sparked. That age old longing that lay buried behind fear and pain deep in Mildred’s eyes. The longing which had been so palpable to Gwendolyn from the start, for she recognised it as her own.   
  
“They are both still true.”   
  
Her lips now trailed up her leg and higher yet where soft flesh beckoned beneath the flimsy silk of her nightgown. She paused only to meet her eyes, to seek encouragement. And Mildred nodded, briefly and quickly but filled with a kind of anticipation that immediately ignited her. To advance, Gwendolyn had to shift onto her knees, but it was a small price to pay for the freedom this allowed her. Her head bowed in reverence between Mildred’s thighs, she kissed and pecked, always drawing closer to her heat but not quite indulging her. She could feel her muscles clench and tense beneath her mouth and sighed when the first ragged moan tore from her throat.   
  
“Don’t stop.”   
  
Her slender hand, now utterly impatient, found its way to the back of her head and gently urged her to continue, and under its guidance Gwendolyn’s mouth was growing hungrier, greedier. Kisses once carefully placed were now sloppy and unrestraint, drawing patterns of chaos over pale white skin. Tongue dipping, indulging in sweet wetness until a tug or a push – her mind was much too incoherent now to differentiate – brought her back. And she remembered, slowly, slowly as through a fog, what her intentions had been. How much she wanted for Mildred to-   
  
“Sweetheart.” The tenderness arose hoarsely from sticky lips. But still the push and pull continued. “Mildred. Darling, please continue.”   
  
She looked up and into cloudy brown eyes, watched as long lashes fanned once, twice, before realisation dawned. And her free hand unravelled from the mattress where fingers had knotted themselves into the sheets. It tugged on her nightgown, revealing an expanse of flushed skin, travelled lower over a belly that rose and fell desperately with every breath, and finally disappeared between damp curls to part her labia with unabashed confidence. Need and desire laid bare before her.   
  
“And you,” she said, with eyes that now demanded, and a firmer tug that beckoned her to cease observing.   
  
Gwendolyn nestled herself fully between her thighs now and with broad strokes licked salt and longing into her mouth. She drank and savoured her until her body rocked and her fingers rubbed slick circles over her clitoris. Until their moans swelled and swelled, and heat coated them both in layers of sweat. Then there was only silence and the heavy rush of their mingled breathing.   
  
They found each other blindly in a tangle of limbs, and soon their foreheads met and lips soothed lips, whispering words that neither of them would recall the following morning. Together they fell asleep, sated and cocooned, and no longer separated by any kind of distance. 


End file.
